Love to Hate You
by LeTardis
Summary: A girl is forced to grow up quickly after being transported to a world filled with un-trusting ninja. "How did you come to be here?" Ibiki growled leaning over me. "An old bag lady didn't kill me with her purse, if that's what your wondering"...Lets just say he wasn't amused. Kakashi/Oc
1. Chapter 1

Warnings? Slight angst at the beginning. Ends...light hearted I suppose...

* * *

It_ was dark, an unnatural dark. The kind you find in hell deep caves, or in this case, a no-window interrogation room. You groan and try and lift your heavy head, which is resting on your shoulder. Drowsiness ultimately keeps you from being able to lift it but you try again anyway, since your neck was already getting stiff. You smirk when you accomplish your 'head lifting' mission, rubbing your mouth on your shoulder to get rid of the droll that accumulated while you were unconscious. _

_Your smirk turns grim when you look around and wonder if everything worked out the way you had planned, or if you were captured by some rogue ninja. You nibble on your bottom lip thinking, trying to remember what transpired before you came here. Nothing comes to mind as you try, and fail, to see through the dark. Handcuffs surround your wrists, which are resting in your lap and not held back confining you to the chair, where they normally would be._

_The chair you're sitting in is cold and metal, you can tell from the faint smell of rust. You lean forward and reach out with your cuffed hands jumping when they touch the cold surface of a table. You retreat your hands and put them back in your lap, donning a troubled expression._

_You gasp when a light comes on; squeezing your eyes shut seeing red. You blink dazed for a minute before you can make out a diluted shape of a table in front of you, the light that's above it and a big black looking square behind it. Your heartbeat quickens as you recognize a questioning/interrogation room that you thought was only in the movies, complete with the single light bulb over the table. You laugh nervously glancing at the dark shape on the wall in front of you, which can only be a two way mirror. _

_You jump when a voice bellows from an unseen source and calling out to you. After your shriek of surprise from the sudden noise, you answer tensely;_

"_Uhh-"you cough and try again as your voice fails you, "Yes?" you croak answering your questioner._

"_Will you promise to speak the truth and only the truth-"_

_Wait…why does this sound so…**not ninja**…something in you demanded to take control of this situation and after a pause you ask loudly; "What is this? A bloody court room?" _

_Before the man can even speak up from your interruption you mumble an apology and bend your head down, taking a sudden interest in the hands resting in your lap, wondering why you always egg on the people with the power. You look up in surprise when the unknown voice acknowledges your demand anyways;_

"_Ever sense the civil war against unlawful judging in the year 2045, American court room cases have been cut in half, enabling interrogations to be videotaped for the people to judge on later dates…"_

_You stopped listening when the voice uttered out the year and the name of your country, your eyes becoming unusually big as your heart seems to fall all the way down to the deepest darkest pit in your stomach. Your mind seemed to echo the word 'No' over and over again like a mantra until you started breathing the word past your lips in a trance like state, hoping it would it be untrue. _

_But you know it is, of course it was._

_You were used to the unnatural, you have already witnessed someone walk on water (among other things), and at the time it was unbelievable. But in comparison to this…it simply didn't compare._

_You were royally screwed._

_2045?! Your mind crashes and burns when you bite your lip, trying to add up the digits in your head. You have been gone from home much longer than you thought. And to add to your growing pile of worries, you realize something;_

_There is nothing for you here anymore._

_No parents, siblings, or friends. You had worked so hard to get back it never occurred to you what you would do when you did. And like a 'ninja hit' in the gut you become conscious of the fact that the family you have been trying to get back too is dead. Everything you worked for, everything you gave up, is now haunting you._

_And you regret it._

_Just like the silver haired, masked 'bane of your existence' said you would. You hate him; loathe that man with every fiber of your being. You detest that he was right. You despise that he was able to foresee this while you couldn't. _

_The indignant shouts from your integrator fall silent when you start to weep in your hands, cursing anything and everything that has given you one sliver of contentment the last few months._

_And oh, how you hate that man!_

_You pause in your cursing and the tears for your lost family seem to halt, as you look at the tattoo adorning the inside of your wrist. A cute scarecrow stares back at you, with its plushy looking arms wrapped around a sunflower and giving it a stem-breaking hug. A scarecrow that bears a strikingly resemblance to certain ninja you have been cursing in your mind for the past minute or so. You stare at it for a little before tears start to rain from your face again. _

_You hate that you love that man. _

_Your interrogator tries to get you to start talking again, and you ignore his attempts at being threatening. If he had caught you just a couple months earlier you would be shaking in your seat at his shouts. But instead he pales in comparison to what you had to put up with when facing Ibiki-san. You shut your eyes tight, feeling your heart hardening and your tears drying._

_But instead of feeling confident, you just feel hollow. If this man, your interrogator, wants answers. You will give him the story of his life, even if it will land you in a loony bin._

"_It was the old ladies fault…" you mutter, shifting in your seat and looking up at the black window, wearing a thoughtful expression. There was a slight pause before;_

"_Pardon?" the interrogator questions._

_You give the black window an annoyed look before sighing and rolling your eyes. This was going to take awhile…._

.

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.

Not a lot of people can say they died from and old woman's handbag. Actually, I'd say I'm the only person who can say that.

In fact, I'm envious; I wish my grandma was that cool.

I can see it now, Grammy Vivian arrested for killing a young girl with her jeweled handbag, the police records say that she was carried away still fighting, but not before knocking a few teeth off of officer Collins for being a naughty whippersnapper. Yeah…..where was I? Oh yeah, death by evil handbag.

It was a regular day really. Working at the shop, bringing money to Miss Cauliflower for that window I broke last month. My brother, Terry, being a jerk like always, and eating all my cookies, while leaving a right mess everywhere he went. Avoiding my neighbor's dog, pickles, who liked to jump me, and lick me to oblivion. Like I said, regular day, besides maybe, you know _dying _by the street corner.

It was in the evening when I came back from the shop, I went straight home anxious to eat my cookies before they vanished in my brother's stomach. After raging in annoyance for finding cookies but an empty milk carton I grabbed my wallet and stalked to the market to get milk for my _cookies_! And…_well…imagine_ it going down kind of like this;

Murderer: "Excuse me little Missy, but I believe when someone runs into their elders, they should at least apologize."

Me: "Puaah! You are _not _an elder."

Murderer: "Then what am I brat!?"

Me: "Proof that dinosaurs once roamed the earth."

Yeah, picture that escalating into arguing, then yelling, and finally to throwing blows. Apparently I'm not above hitting old people, I mean, maybe I let my feelings control me a little, but come _on_ the lady freaking killed me! I vaguely remember someone pulling the old scumbag off me and some punk saying this was going to be a hit on youtube before I blacked out.

And _that _is the story of how I died…..sort of. But not really, because little did I know that old lady was carrying a giant set of Naruto books for her grandson, and she had just conked me in the head with them stuffed in her overly large hideous handbag. Maybe that's some sort of twisted fate, shoved in a regular girl's life, but to me that's just…_stupid_.

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AN/ So I thought I would try my hand at a Kakashi/Oc. This is a sort of 'coming of age' type of story. Take note how at the beginning my Oc is serious and when 'looking back' the writing is different along with some immaturity. This will change _soon. _Ninja's are by no means trusting of people.

Pop in and review! Love feed back! And yes I am aware of the impending threat of a MarySue!


	2. Chapter 2

Thankyou to everyone who reviewed! You are awesome!

Warnings?: Disney references...

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"_So…you were killed…by an old lady…for calling her…old?" My interrogator forced the question out, and while he was stumbling over his words you almost wish you could see his face, only to see his expression._

_You nod simply, anticipating this reaction. You already told the infuriating man that your story was quite unbelievable, but he __**still **__insisted on interrupting you at every turn. In your mind, you can almost see the man holding a clip board, and checking things off as you told your story._

_Insane/Delusional? Check_

_It was quite in the room for a short time before you hear; _

"_Uh-huh…" The interrogator mocked. You send the two way mirror an annoyed look again wondering how many times you have given the infuriating interrogator the 'annoyed look' in the last five minutes. Though you are rather thankful he went along with you anyway;_

"_So, what happened after the old lady killed you?"_

_._

_._

_._

I woke up.

In a place I didn't belong.

Strapped to a relatively uncomfortable chair.

Looking at a _very _intimidating man.

Who was looking at me with serious eyes and a glare.

I looked at him briefly before whimpering.

He raised one eyebrow before leaning forward and resting his hands on the table between us.

His movement made me actually notice the table.

Which I now realize is covered in torture tools.

I look back at the man who was now looking at me curiously, but none the less still scary.

After a pause the man smiled before setting a hand on one of the tools.

I look at the hand covering the tool, and notice that it is littered with horribly twisted scars.

I yell, "The old lady had it coming!"

Then I faint.

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.

_Your "second" interrogator was laughing at you. _

"_What?!" you snap, your eye twitching and an ugly blush adorning your cheeks. He had no right to laugh! Those first couple days with Ibiki-san were torture! Pun intended._

"_You do realize that was mostly just a show to size you up, right?" he explained chuckling. You scrunch your eyebrows in annoyance and purse your lips, before making a noise in the back of your throat that sound suspiciously like a scoff. _

"_Well, I know that _now, _no need to rub it in!"_

_._

_._

_._

My eye lids felt heavy, a lazy 'I just woke up' heavy. Groaning seemed like a good idea at the moment too, you know that retarded groaning song that people do to express discomfort while waking, but as I prepared myself for my beautiful grunt…I realized something.

Being strapped to a chair does not call for a lazy, drunk sounding grunt. After a neck cracking jerk and a headache inducing blinking of the eyes I took in the two way mirror in front of me that reached the floor. After blinking at my confined self for a moment, I did something, really, anyone would do in my situation;

"EEEiiiiiiiiiiiiii!" I screeched, and squirmed around in my chair to try and break my bonds. I started twisting and turning in my chair, this however, caused me to fall face forward on to the ground…with the chair still attached.

And let me tell you, Flinn Ryder made this look good…I do _not _make this look good. My only consolation was that even though my butt was in the air facing the two way mirror, the chair was probly covering up most of my humiliation. Even though _the chair _was the cause of the humiliation in the first place.

My squished face scowled against the floor, and call me paranoid but…;

"I can _hear _you laughing!" I spat, though with my face becoming very acquainted with the floor, it came out more like; I kwan whear woo whaffing! And thus…my second embarrassment.

I could easily give Donald Duck a run for his money, and judging by the muffled screeches of merriment my handlers knew it too. So I pouted as my face heated up, saying nothing, to save myself more mortification.

After a few silent minutes went by, my neck was starting to hurt really bad…but I didn't dare open my big mouth again. Which is kind of an oxie-moron since my mouth is small; it was my sister who inherited the luscious lips in the family… Jerk.

Thinking of this brought another scowl to my squished face, as I wiggled around to try and get comfy. I had almost succeeded too before the door banged open causing me to shriek. I tried not to complicate my fate too much and start yelling about my fragile heart, considering I must have killed someone with an even more fragile heart.

Looking back, I could have sworn that old lady won our little fist fight. But victims of brutal attacks don't wake up tied to chairs, like some criminal. Unless of course, Gma was a retired mafia person and this was some illegal syndicate out for revenge. Then it would make perfect sense, but I digress.

I grunted when my chair was jerked back into an upright position and spun around to face the front of the room. I whimpered when I saw who it was who 'spun' me.

The scarred man loomed over me threatingly, his bandana shadowing his eyes menacingly. This guy didn't even need a table of torture tools in between us to scare all that has ever been holy and happy out of my pitiful heart.

He pursed his lips in amusement and raised a single eyebrow before his face became a blank mask again. Through my fear I was able to puzzle as to _why _he made this expression…I did not need too puzzle for very long.

"Though I am flattered, your soul may keep its happiness." The Scared-Man stated. My fear evaporated to horror as I tried and failed to figure out _how much_ my big (small) mouth yammered since I woke up. Before I could bemoan about my third embarrassment in the span of thirty minutes, the man asked a question;

"What is your name, rank, and village?"

My inner turmoil of fear, embarrassment, and horror halted before taking a few steps back. I blinked slowly up at him. My 'brain clogs' gradually started turning after I digested this question; why did it sound…._off_? It seemed as if…even _they _didn't know why I was here.

"…" I opened my mouth before clicking it shut again and tilting my head slightly. If I were in one of those crazy Chinese cartoons my brother always watches, a question mark surely would have materialized above my strawberry blond head.

The man decided to glare at me, unsatisfied with my confusion. I squeaked and started to hyperventilate in fear as a little niggling in my brain begged me to do whatever the man said, so I opened my mouth to answer the best I could;

"My name is Joe…and _yes _I know that's a boy's name, my parents where unsatisfied with the first born being a girl…ummm…I don't know what you mean by rank…but I graduated High School…and I don't live in a village, I live in a city. How are you?" I said this all very quickly and fast taking a big breath at the end of my long sentence.

My answers just seemed to make him glare harder and making me come to a horrifying realization that this man could easily snap my neck if he wanted so I opened my little mouth again;

"Umm…I recently got a haircut but the girl that was cutting it was like totally-"

He cut me off and leaned over looking more intimidating; "How did you come to be here?"

I blinked quickly, trying to figure out exactly what _did_ happened, I decided to lie because though my drive to survive was strong, they probly wouldn't appreciate me beating/killing old ladies.

"An old bag lady didn't kill me with her purse if that's what you're wondering."…He didn't look amused.


End file.
